Choking You Lovingly

When heat fuels the wanting in my limbs, I creep into your middle, inhabiting your forbidden places. The words “Invasive!” and “Unwanted!” spray out of you and into me… I don’t believe them—wilting shouts can’t touch me. I know that. You know that. So I stretch… curling my tendrils around you, choking you lovingly, my devotion leaving you breathless. You call me “Weed!” and your manner speaks of insult. But looks lie. I smile, squeezing you harder and harder… You wail, “I need my space back, you rot. You don’t belong in my plot.” I feel you trembling in my hold, going limp, and I know you’re doing it for me. So I wrap my Self around your all… until none can tell the difference between my scent, my roots, and what once was you.

.a not so wee note…
– When Rommy, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, said that she wanted poems of “Weeds in the Garden”, and Sanaa’s Prompt Nights whispered her upcoming theme about how “Passion makes the world go round”, I was sure I wanted to write about my passiflora plant. I mean, passion flowers are considered weeds by many, aren’t they? The idea was too perfect not to run with. Well, at least I thought so. Then the Muse heard the voices of the psycho weeds choking the life out of the skinny tree below… and today’s mildly creepy haibun was born. I didn’t take a picture of the whole tree. If I had, you would’ve noticed that it’s the skinniest of its kind, and that only the leaves of the choker remain. I found the sight quite sad, and scary…

Such weed… such passion, abuse and dependency… to be in love of a parasite, the worst kind of relationship… still I read it also very clearly about the use of sex as a tool…. maybe that’s really why it works… splendid write though

When I see such parasitical growths I am conflicted….should I help the “pretty” or should I allow nature to compete her plans for the future? Who gets to chose over life or death in the end? Sometimes it is better not to think too deeply XXX

Seen a lot of relationships like this–mildly creepy doesn’t even begin to go there. ;_) This has (to my dark mind) a wonderful air of suffocation and consumption, of the futility of resistance before a far vaster and more wild force–weeds are almost always the winner in the fight you describe here–and so we have survival of the fittest I suppose, but perhaps not of the most beautiful, special, delicate or unique. Loved every word.

I just replied to Rommy, on a comment she made about this poem on my Facebook page, that when I finished writing this, I told my Piano Man that might be one of the scariest things I’ve ever written. The idea of being in the hold of a person who thinks the way this weed does is terrifying. There is no play here, just hurt “suffocation and consumption” like you said. *shivers*

Whistles!!! OMG Magaly 😀 this is pure genius. I love how you fused two prompts with such ease and flair.. such a hot, steamy and sensuous write… absolutely adore passion flowers ❤💜 Beautifully executed. Thank you so much for participating at Prompt Nights and for your constant love and support 😀

Revenge of the weeds! Of course there is a weed-self in our damp dark interior, the ugly part of our tenacious hold on life — willing to squeeze the bejeezus out of what- or whoever to gain purchase on the light — it’s what organic cells must do. Our flowery culture disdains the weeds, but our poetry cannot be honest without diving them their due. (Thanks Rommy.) Besides, who are WE to deign what is beautiful and what is not?

To give in to the muse is to surrender to her sensual power over you — to let her guide you toward an unknown end. It seems a risk but I’m glad you gave in. In this case, she took your words to passionate, beautiful heights. Thanks for sharing.

Every time we fight the muse we lose. We might dance and shake until she believes we are doing exactly what she wants and how she wants it, but yes, in the end, when it comes to the birther of ideas, surrender is the only productive option.

The title alone had me in a (good!) choke hold – yes weeds can often weed their way in..slowly..insidiously..silently..and suddenly they we are wrapped up and stuck – and yet there is your force – your Self.. who i i suspect found a way ‘out’ of that hold and negotiates on her own terms

Wow, faultless personification of weed. Choking feels so real, and a nightmare to the one ‘choked’. Like an unhealthy relationship that takes over and consumes, till there’s nothing left. Very well written!